Twisted Fate
by SardonicDear
Summary: Death evaded me at every turn, never bringing dark relief to all that I had marred. She laughed, Death did, even when my escape was so certain, she pulled it further away from my yearning grasp. Journey through Dragon Age: Origins as a mage. Some parts of the story may or may not follow the plot line of Origins (where does an elvin mage come from, anyways?). Critique wanted!
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

WHY WAS I STILL HERE?

I lost count of how many times I'd asked myself that question that faithful day at Ostagar. I shouldn't be alive, I deserved to be dead for what I'd done to Jowan, how I'd betrayed him and in my heartbroken fury, I'd vowed to show him of love's blackened nature. I probably cost him his life. And I deserved to share his fate.

Blood magic, the mere thought of it made me cringe in ways that I thought only imminent death could. Using your, or another's, life force to create monstrous things that should have only existed in terrible legend was a foreign concept to my mind. I'd hoped that it was just a legend that the Chantry had cooked up to keep us in line… I was wrong.

Now I was, not only an escapee to the Circle of Magii – an apostate – I was a known accomplice to a blood mage that had killed four Templars, destroyed his phylactery and fled the Circle all in a few hours' time. The Chantry hated me.

In actuality, my mere existence was despised by all; everything that was loathed the most rolled into one convenient package.

I was an elf, a knife-ear, a should be slave. I had no idea where I'd even hailed from, the Circle having taken me away from my family so young, I had no recollection of a life outside of the Tower. My pointed ears and slightly longer face was all that stood between me and a somewhat normal existence outside the walls of my school. I'd never really known that my kind were so despised by some until I'd traveled here and tried to buy some food at the market and the farmer tried to flag down a guard to report me as a run-away slave. Sometimes, if I wore my hair a certain way, and stood a bit taller, people would mistake me for a young human, as I did now.

Then, there was the lyrium that ran through my veins.

It wasn't lyrium, exactly, that gave me my powers, but that my connection to the Fade – the land of spirits and dreams – that allowed me to cast spells. However, my connection seemed to be just a bit stronger than the Templars liked, and I was constantly watched at the Circle. Mages were feared, to put it lightly. Entire volumes were written on the dangers of a mage, an order of specially designed soldiers created to keep us under the Chantry's thumb and, finally, a castle – built by the late King Calenhad – was dedicated to the mages to keep them and general society away from each other.

A malifecarum accomplice. An apostate. An elf.

Perhaps, if fate was kinder, I would be dead already.

But that was not her plan.


	2. Places to Be

CHAPTER ONE

PLACES TO BE…

I MET HIM SHORTLY AFTER I MET WITH THE KING. Had I known what I knew now, I would have done things differently, but not many of us can go through life without saying those words.

I knew he was the one that Duncan had wanted me to get as soon as I had stepped foot in the ruin of a fortress.

He stood about six feet tall, clad in some dented splint mail armor that laid closely to his body. His hair was peculiar, I wanted to say strawberry blond, but it wasn't quite red enough, yet not quite light enough to be flaxen. Whatever the color was, he had it – on purpose or not – stuck up in the front, yet the messiness framed his face well. His jawline was strong, yet his cheeks and lips were full enough to keep him from the harsh, warrior look. Hazel eyes danced in his face.

"—deliver a message," he was saying, truth in his words, but his voice played.

"A message?!" the dark-skinned man scoffed. He was dressed in Circle robes, but I had little time to identify him before he huffed and stormed off.

The soldier exhaled, smiled and shook his head. "One good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together," his attention diverted to me.

I raised a brow, not sure if the remark was sarcastic or not. "You are a very strange man."

His grin only deepened. "You're not the first to tell me that. Oh! Are you the recruit Duncan was telling me about?"

I nodded. "My name's Zephyra. You must be Alistair, then?"

Alistair bobbed his head, mimicking mine. "Right you are. I – are you alright?" I couldn't hold down the black laughter that came from the recesses of my thought. He regarded me with a curious look, but I just shook my head and waved it away. He changed the subject conscientiously. "You know, it's just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens."

"Hmm," I mused. "Not just a woman, but an elf, and a mage at that."

He seemed taken aback for just a moment, looking as though he may not have heard me right. "A mage? You don't look like a mage – I mean, not like any – erm… never mind."

I was unsure whether to be flattered or insulted, so I played indifference and partially ignored his comment. "Duncan said that you were going to help me prepare for the Joining?"

"Uhm, yes. Yep, that's me. AS the junior member of the Order, it is my job to accompany you in the Joining ceremony."

I needled a bit harder. "What can you tell me about this, all too elusive, Joining."

The façade of humor slipped over his features once again. "I can't, unfortunately. Top secret. But, we'll be meeting the other recruits with Duncan as soon as we get across the camp and he might be able to explain a bit more."

"Other recruits?"

Alistair nodded and shifted his weight. "Just two more, you'll meet them soon enough."

I wasn't the only one with ill enough fortune to have stumbled across the king's army and get abducted into service as my only way out with hope to live? Wonderful.

This was no place for me; I stood out here, even being escorted by this warrior-man, the stares of all the people followed me. I had a great steel staff nestled between my shoulder blades – it poked up in the sea of swords, daggers and bows – a near beacon for people to veer away from me. Even here, on the battle field, where mages made the difference between a victory and a slaughter of all of your people, we were still judged and hated. Even the few senior mages I'd seen, ghosting around the place in their red Circle robes, caught the glare of nearly everyone that was here. A liability.

Who needed the Blight when your closest allies could become possessed by a demon and turn their powers against you in their abomination rage?

"So," I started again when we had passed a group of warriors that were praying to The Maker to provide them protection in their upcoming battle, "what about you? How'd you end up in all this mess?"

Alistair took a second before he answered me. "I wasn't too much before Duncan found me – picked up by the Chantry by age 10. It wasn't long before they decided that I would make a good Templar."

I stiffened. This was it, wasn't it? He was here under Greagoir's orders to kill me. Not one mage would live to see him the laughing stock of the Circle. But, Alistair didn't seem to have any begrudging against the mages, even when I'd foolishly told him that I was one. But some of them were more crafty and sadistic than others. Stupid, stupid!

He must have seen that run across my face. "I mean, I don't have anything against you! They're –oh, Maker… I'm sorry if I've offended you. I just didn't realize –" he stammered quickly before I cut him off.

"No, no. It's fine. I was just – it's fine."

He smiled apologetically, "If it makes any difference, I never actually finished my training. Though, I liked the challenge that it presented, I never actually became a full Templar before Duncan conscripted me."

It did help a little, though I was still wary. "Something about you did feel a bit different than the rest of the Templars I've met." Perhaps the fact that he was not holding a sword at my neck helped a bit.

He shrugged. "I never was really cut out for the religious part of the Templar training, anyways."

I took the information I was presented with and stowed it for the time being, perhaps it would be of use to me if I ever had to kill him or something.

As we neared where Alistair had told me we were to meet Duncan, a peculiar sound piqued my interest and stood out among all the clangs, chatter and wood spit. A whine.

Inside the slatted cage that the rest of the war-dogs had been kept, a single dog had been corralled alone. He was massive; perhaps if he had not been slinked to the ground in pain he would have stood up to my waist. Tan fur covered his body, growing dark near his muzzle and flanks as well as his feet. Alone, suffering, in pain.

"Poor fellow."

Standing beside me was a tall man, dark hair tied back in a braid and scruff covering his face. From the armor he wore and the lightness of his build, I assumed he was trained to fight quickly and accurately, without much power.

"He looks sick," I noted, cocking my head.

The man nodded. "He accidently bit into one of the darkspawn and the taint is making him ill. I've tried almost everything I can think of but he's still not getting any better."

I pursed my lips. "Almost?"

"Well, there is one more thing that I think could possibly help him," the man shook his head. "But the plant is out in the Wilds and I can't leave and it'd take an army and a half to get any of these men to go out into that forest."

"We'll be going out there soon enough," Alistair's voice answered. "We might be able to get some for you."

The kennel-keeper grinned. "I'd be much obliged. It's a white flower with a red center, it's hard to miss. They grow on fallen logs and such like that."

"We'll keep an eye out."

As we turned to head to Duncan, I grinned. "So we're going into the Wilds, huh? That's where we prove ourselves to be ruthless killers? Slay a few darkspawn and proclaim ourselves Grey Wardens?"

That got a laugh from him. "In part. But it's not _that_ easy."

"It was worth a shot, then."

Near a fire that was lit in, what must have been, an old chamber to the fortress that was Ostagar was Duncan, two other men standing beside him.

I owed my life to that man, I realized. Had he not been in the same tower I had been the day that Jowan escaped, Greagoir would have had my head rolling around the stone floor before Irving could have even comprehended what had happened. But, did I really want this…? All my life, I'd wanted to be outside those damned walls, but now…?

"Ah, I'm glad you two finally decided to come around," Duncan said. His hair was short and black, or was at one point in time for both his hair and beard had received a fair sprinkling of grey among their ranks. "This is Zephyra, the recruit I was telling you about. Zephyra, this is Ser Jory –" he gestured to the larger of the two men, whose hair seemed to be receding from a kind, round face "and Daveth – " he gestured to the other of the men, slightly lankier, and most definitely here because his specialty was not fighting fair. "—and they will be accompanying you on your Joining as well."

I held out a hand to the two men, Daveth took it and shook it once. Ser Jory bowed.

"Will someone actually tell me what this Joining is all about?" I asked, partially joking. "No one has told me anything and it's driving me crazy."

Duncan cracked part of a smile. "You, Ser Jory and Daveth with go out into the Wilds and bring me three vials of darkspawn blood that we will use in the Joining ritual. Alistair will go along with you and make sure that you don't die upon collecting the blood, Grey Wardens can sense the taint." He turned to Alistair. "I need you to go the old out posts in the wilds and collect the Grey Warden treaties from the chest there. They are the papers that obligate Orzammar, the Dalish and the Circle of Magii to help us in the fight against the Blight."

I nodded slowly. "And then…?"

He chuckled. "Then bring all that back to me and I can prepare the Joining. Maker go with you."

The woods were something new to me.

They were cool, the air damp and the ground soft beneath my feet. The canopy of the trees let in little light that just barely dotted the earth. Bushes grew out of control, birds sang into the air and the sound of faintly rushing water pricked my ears. It felt... natural, somehow. I'd only ever read about places like this, but from somewhere in my mind, flashes of a forest that looked similar to this one crept to the forefront of my mind; perhaps remnants of a long lost dream. I shrugged it off.

"Getting three vials of tainted blood, huh? Easy, right?" I joked, real nervousness ticking my voice.

"Scared?" Daveth teased.

"Not particularly, if you don't count the fact that I was raised in a tower for all of my memorable life and have little to no fighting skills whatsoever." I grimaced.

"And Duncan recruited you? A mage who can't hold her own?" he asked skeptically.

I frowned as we progressed further into the forest. "I've only ever fought a handful of times, the majority being the sentinels that they conjure to keep the students out of the phylactery room. And a couple Templars… Nothing of consequence."

Daveth promptly stopped talking and just followed behind me as we ventured forward. The forest crackled beneath our feet when someone stepped on a twig or kicked a rock across the forest floor.

Why did I get this nagging feeling that this setting was so familiar to me? The way the damp air clung to my skin, my almost automatic adjustment to stepping silently across the soft ground. I felt like I'd known this place longer than I'd ever known the Circle.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a flower perched on top of a pile of decomposing leaves – made up of a single, continuous petal that looked to have fresh blood poured into the center of it. It must have been the one that the man guarding the mabari kennels was talking about. I plucked it and stowed it carefully in the folds of my robe.

As I joined the back of the group, I heard the Grey Warden in the front call out a warning. "Darkspawn ahead. Be ready."

I slid my staff from my back, holding the cool steel in my hands. I could feel the lyrium in it pulse at my touch, warming the soft surface slightly as I nervously worked the metal in my hands.

A deep, guttural sound came from just ahead, it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. These were the things the Chantry had told us we'd brought upon the world. They said it was mages like us that brought our evil corruption into the Golden City, where the Maker sent all the people that had died, and had turned themselves into soulless creatures. They plundered the Golden City and turned it into the Black City. The magisters returned to Thedas, but they were corrupted and came back as darkspawn. The same creature I now faced.

Skin was blackened, as though charred, pulled tight over a face that screamed of evil. Their eyes burned like coals and their teeth stuck jagged out of their mouth. Armor had been pieced together, some torn, bent and broken and had been haphazardly been strapped to the creatures in protection.

Mana surged from my body, lighting the air between myself and my staff with precious power. I directed the spell towards the darkspawn, concentrating with such a force that everything but my staff, my spell and the darkspawn before me, melted away. The energy leapt from my body in an explosive force of lightning, the light breaking once it hit and scattered to the other four darkspawn behind it. The blackened body convulsed, falling to the ground. Two of the four that I had hit with the smaller bolts had fallen to the ground as well, their bodies crumpled.

My vision blurred for a slight moment and my hearing dulled to a low ring, my body reeling from the massive energy I had expelled. Never before had I had to use a spell of such force before.

Hazy shapes came together in a spray of crimson, a flash of silver and a crashing of bodies to the floor. Slowly my eyes refocused on the scene and sound had come back to me. I realized that I was now kneeling on the ground, my hand clenched around my staff for support. A hand entered my field of vision, an invitation to help me to my feet. I denied it and pushed myself up.

"Those were darkspawn, weren't they?" Ser Jory asked, his voice quivering. "They're terrible."

Alistair smiled, black humor tainting the expression. "Were you expecting kittens?"

I knelt beside the first beast I had felled and dipped the little glass vial Duncan had handed me into one of the wounds the lightning had burst open.

"You've never fought before? Ha!" Daveth cackled. "You had me fooled for a while there, but there was no way that anyone – even a mage – could do that unless they'd fought those _monsters _before."

Stoppering the vial, I stood to look at him, leaning on my staff for support. "I haven't. My mana pool is much too weak to have been fighting things like these before. I overestimated my ability to cast and nearly knocked myself into unconsciousness for a spell like that."

"Everyone get your precious blood, the next stop is the out posts and then back to the camp. We are not going to want to be out here in the dark, trust me," Alistair said, glancing around at the sky, as it to determine how many hours we had left. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, "Fine, fine. I'll be better in a bit. Lead the way."

It was dark by the time Duncan had whisked away the vials of blood and disappeared into the mysterious labyrinth that was Ostagar's walls. I had only the slightest bit of time to run the Wilds flower over to the kennel-master before we were taken to the stone landing where I'd met my escort. Alistair was left with us, perhaps to keep us from running away, perhaps to kill us if we tried.

"I have a wife with child at home. If I knew that it meant throwing myself at the darkspawn and dying, I would have never joined." Ser Jory paced the stone walls of the open room we were put in, clearly re-thinking his voluntary joining of this order.

"Would you really rather watch the darkspawn slaughter your pretty, little wife? I am glad that we can fight them here, keep them from launching themselves into our homes and killing our families," Daveth countered.

"I don't want that!" Ser Jory growled, as though offended by the idea. "I just mean that I have a family to go back to, unlike you."

"What did you say, you –"

Alistair leaned against the wall silently, looking past the scene before him.

I shook my head. "Can you two just stop arguing for ten seconds? That would be great."

"And who are you to lecture us?" Ser Jory attacked. "You're a Circle Mage; you don't know anything of family or love. You don't have anything to lose at this fight besides your own life."

I whirled, taking three large steps so that I was inches away from Ser Jory's face, standing up on my toes so that I was as close to eye-level as I could muster. "I have lost more in the past few weeks of my life than you could ever have imagined," I whispered, my voice menacingly low. His eyes widened. "This anxiety that you feel before going into battle is _nothing_. The thought that you could save everything if you complete a task is given to you by the Maker himself. I know pain, suffering and trial, you mewling quim. I also know that I would gladly lay down my life to a hoard of darkspawn, sucking in a deep breath. "You should see this as an opportunity to make sure that everything you love doesn't go up in smoke. You are lucky to have this chance to protect your people…"

There was a stunned silence for a few seconds as I took another breath.

"She is right," the wise voice of the senior Grey Warden spoke. "We are here to protect Ferelden, our loved ones, our freedom."

Turning, I saw the eldest Grey Warden standing there with an ornate silver goblet in his hands, coming up the steps into the large stone room. He nodded to me as I met his gaze. He passed through the group of us to the stone table that was set by the wall, where he stood, cradling the bright chalice in between his fingers.

"Before we begin, the traditional words of a Joining must be spoken. Alistair, if you would."

Alistair pushed himself off the wall, bowing his head. I mimicked him when I saw Duncan follow his lead.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And one day, we shall join you…"

His voice faded into the darkness around us, pulling my thoughts to the men standing around me. This was my life now; destroying darkspawn and dying for this cause that I was dragged into as the only alternative for being slain on the spot in the Circle.

When I opened my eyes, the world around me seemed to have grown even darker than before, the last of light barely enough for my eyes to pick up on the details around me.

Duncan turned to Daveth first and nodded, extending his reach out to the shifty man. Daveth nodded, taking the chalice into his own hands and lifting it slowly to his mouth. I saw him swallow whatever was in the cup and hand it back to Duncan, shaking his head.

His hand flew to his throat, gasping for air as though someone was choking him. The swift fighter sank to his knees, and wildly looked around him for help before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body crashed to the ground lifelessly.

"I'm sorry, Daveth," Duncan said, a small frown on his face as he turned to Ser Jory.

The warrior's eyes widened with animalistic fear. "No, no. I can't die!" His hand reached for his sword behind his head, the blade coming free with the singing sound of metal on metal. "I have a wife! Stay back! Just let me go!"

The senior Grey Warden's face grew grave, brows pulling down over dark eyes, none of the surprise I felt at this sudden development showing in his expression. Ser Jory lunged at Duncan with his blade, which the older man parried, twisting his blade out of his hand and driving it into its owner's body, a spray of blood casting itself on the stone ground. Jory fell to the ground, looking up at Duncan with a face of disbelief before the life faded from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Jory."

This was it. This is how I died, hundreds of miles from the Circle Tower, surrounded by darkspawn and at the hands of the same person who had saved my life before. Had he really done anything but extend my life a few weeks, let me see the outside world as a kindness before he cut me down with the strange liquid that was in the silver goblet or by the already wet blade in his hand?

I gripped the object that certainly contained the poison that was to end it all for me, tipping the chalice to my mouth. Inside a dark liquid, thick and stagnant, coated the goblet. As I touched it to my lips, I noted that there was lyrium among the taste of putrid rust that painted the insides of my throat.

The world spun. The silver cup was taken from my grasp as a violent wave of vertigo nearly knocked me to the ground. Cold sweat dotted my skin and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, the drumming of my doom. From somewhere far away I heard a piercing scream, neither human nor animal, the high-pitched tambour darkening and hoarsening into a blood-chilling roar.

My vision flashed white, fading to the head of a grinning beast, covered in violet scales. Sharpened fangs gnashed together as it called out to the darkspawn. Brilliant ruby eyes flashed before it opened its magnificent maw and let loose a scorching spirit flame that engulfed my body, setting every inch of skin I had into a fury of pain. It lifted its hulking head, sneering at my agony before disappearing into the blackened night.

It was all I could do to scream.


End file.
